


Honorary Stark

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times Peter Is Included In The Iron Family, A Third POV look into Tony and Pepper in love, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Happy Endings Are Good Endings, Iron Family, Iron Mom & Dad, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Freeform, Precious Peter Parker, Pregnancy, Tony Stark Has A Heart, flirty bickering, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: “You have to be more careful at least until Baby Stark is born,” Pepper says, placing his hand on her stomach. “She hears your voice and starts kicking away.”Peter lets out a breathy “Aw,” at that, feeling the tiny kicks of the baby against his hand. Tony and Pepper look at him, pleased. Aunt May looks like she might cry a little, from the moment and a little bit from sleep deprivation.“Pepper Potts, expert guilt-tripper since, well, forever.”“Shhh, Mister Stark, you’re ruining the moment.”As Tony and Pepper prepare to be parents, Peter realizes how happily close he is to the Stark family in a myriad of domestic ways.





	Honorary Stark

**Author's Note:**

> In general, I’m a firm believer in writing the fic you want to see in the world, and this is definitely one of those fics for me. As someone who adores Tony and Pepper, I felt like I needed a very kind, domestic fic where they’re Iron Mom and Dad—both to Peter and their future child. It naturally became this sort of third POV look of Peter being around them and loving them as much as I do, and eventually seeing himself as part of their extended family.
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, while I’m at it, here’s to Endgame, probably ruining this and leaving it as my idyllic headcanon, but at least we’re all going down together.

i.

 

“Hey Mom-to-be,“ Peter wants to die instantly once the words leave his mouth, but he tries to _not_ do that with Pepper Potts, super successful and amazing business woman in front of him. "I mean—you know. Of Baby Stark. Not that I wouldn't want—you’re gonna be a great mom, you know, you just aren’t gonna be... _my_ mom...obviously."

Maybe it's the lack of food and the heavy haze of sleep deprivation combined with being in an enclosed space with chemical fumes of different kinds and only Mister Stark for company a few hours ago that's doing this to him. He could swear that his usual level of embarrassing isn't this bad. Jesus.

Pepper looks him up and down. Maybe he reminds her of Tony in that moment—he crashed on the couch in the workshop wearing his messy-work clothing, which is just a pair of his holiest jeans and an oil-stained shirt of Tony's. It’s either that, or she pities him. Either way, she simply takes a sip of her orange juice and replies with a warm "Good morning, Peter.” 

That's one of the things Peter likes most about Pepper. Despite her life being what it is all of the time, she radiates this peace about her. Like, if anyone in the compound, in the room, in the _world_ is going to have their shit together, it's probably going to be her. That may or may not actually be true—Tony hides a lot of things behind layers of sarcasm and wit, and Peter has been recovering from Titan one restless night at a time with Tony's support and advice without telling May about his nightmares at _all_ —but Peter likes her for it regardless. Pepper is steady in a way that creative, adventurous, scientific people like Tony and Peter often aren’t. It's a comfort just looking at her in her home, in her element, casual yet composed.

"No 'Hey Dad-to-be’? Geez, you think you're a kid's favorite," Tony quips, shaking his head. He's the source of the smell that dragged Peter from his sleep despite the fact that he definitely didn't get enough, which means Tony probably hasn’t slept yet at all. Tony has a spread of breakfast food in front of where Pepper is seated at the kitchen counter. Enough to feed—well, Peter, really, and with his enhanced metabolism, that means it's a lot.

"I never said you were my favorite." Peter ignores the dramatically feigned hurt look from Mister Stark and instead enjoys the sound of Pepper's quiet laugh, clearly amused by them.

"Honey, don't laugh, you'll make him think he's funny." Tony points a spatula at them as if it were an extension of his finger, slinging a couple of cooked egg bits to the floor. He turns his look to Peter. "Little shits don't get shit, capiche?"

"Iron Man _is_ my favorite Avenger..." Peter concedes, accepting the plate Tony holds out. He’s proud that Tony only fakes the motion of taking it back once before truly giving the plate over. When Tony turns around to shut off the stovetop, Peter shakes his head and mimes to Pepper the action of slamming a hammer the way he assumes Thor might. (He didn't have the chance to see the Asgardian in battle, only to meet him after, so he doesn’t have much to go on but the footage from the Battle of New York and anything released after.)

Pepper gives him a cheeky smile and a wink before changing the subject. "I thought we talked about cutting back on the language," Pepper muses lightly, idly breaking apart a piece of bacon between her fingers.

"For the baby," Tony clarifies to Peter. "But that baby can't hear yet, so they're fine. This one—“ Tony gesticulates with the spatula again at Peter. "Is at the age where his classmates and I teach him new curses, and he doesn't repeat them back to his Aunt May, ever."

"I'm not a baby," Peter argues.

"Spider-baby. Forever and always."

"Ugh." Peter decides Mister Stark is in too good a mood for sleep-deprived Peter, so he distracts himself by throwing eggs and toast onto his plate and ignoring his mentor.

Tony decides to leave Peter alone too, apparently, because he goes to wrap himself around Pepper instead. Peter tries not to pry, really, but they're right there and he's right here. He ends up watching them because he doesn't have anything else to look at, really, and he’s too tired to put up any kind of pretense about it.

"Eat something," Tony commands more than suggests, punctuating his words with a firm kiss to Pepper's cheek. "Have a good day. Kick ass. I'll see you later. Yeah?"

Pepper turns, the two of them locked in a sort of standing-sitting hold, Pepper’s chair making her higher. (With the heels that she often wears, Peter is used to seeing their height difference, anyway.) She touches Tony’s cheek. "Sleep," she similarly commands. "I want you to try for six hours, minimum.”

This stance they're in, the conversation, it mirrors a balance between them—steady, reassuring, smoothing down the other’s hard, more frantic edges. And it isn’t just Tony on edge, either. There’s something about Pepper this morning, how delicate Tony is being with her in action and speech. They’re a good team like he used to think Ben and May were, before.

"You make a very fair proposal, Miss Potts," Tony says, and Peter _feels_ himself recoiling, because Mister Stark, his friend-mentor-dadish-person, flirting? Weird almost business-like flirting, but still that tone? Nope, he hates it, it’s like watching your parents (or aunt and uncle in Peter’s case) do the same. Eject.

Tony must notice Peter's face, the expression of his inner turmoil, because he rolls his eyes and kisses Pepper, simple and sweet, before piling a mix of the breakfast food on a piece of toast and walking off with it presumably to their bedroom instead of joining them at the table like a normal human being.

He's about to tell Pepper of his disapproval of Tony's behavior when he notices her plate—groups of broken bacon, stabbed fruits, but not much missing.

"Miss Potts, are you okay?" he asks, before worrying that it's too intrusive, or dumb, because Tony made all this and she's not really touching it, maybe she’s just sick and wants him to leave her alone—

"I'm fine. Well, the new normal, I guess.” Pepper shrugs. "It's hard keeping food down, lately. Part of the fun of growing a human. Tony just worries, you know."

"Yeah," Peter agrees, because Mister Stark once tried to develop a flu vaccine that would work with his immune system last winter just because Peter sneezed a couple too many times. Mister Stark likes to try and create solutions to problems, especially in extremes. It's what he knows. It's what's saved his life before.

"He thought something more substantial than a Clif Bar for breakfast would help entice my appetite—clearly that didn't work.” She says it jokingly, but he can see that as happy as she and Mister Stark are for the baby to come, she’s not having much fun being pregnant these first few months in. Mister Stark’s told him…too many stories about Miss Potts puking, lately. “I guarantee he'll stop by the office later to distract me after lunchtime. And don't even get me _started_ on him trying to convince me to let FRIDAY give me an ultrasound so he can check on the baby whenever he wants." Pepper plays the words off as exasperated, but Peter can tell there's a note of fondness in there too. “He’s adorable with how much he cares, but he’s also Tony, so I have to save him from himself at some point with all the worrying.”

"It's nice, though, right? That he cares so much about you and the baby?"

Pepper leans an arm on the table, turning to him and half smiling behind her fist when she leans against it. “I love it, and him. And it’s a little annoying, when he takes it too far. Very Tony.”

“I think he’ll be a good dad,” Peter says, hoping that’s comforting. Because despite Tony’s (many, many, _many_ ) doubts, Peter’s received a lot of comfort and guidance from his mentor. With how he’s been treating Pepper while carrying their child, he can’t imagine Tony would be anything other than perfectly attentive to the kid when they’re born.

“Me too. Hey, at least the poor kid won’t have to live on my cooking,” Pepper sighs, patting the bump that shows just barely under her black slacks. “Sorry, baby, Mom can’t do much more than order takeout, but I promise I have great taste. Dad’s apology omelettes are second to none, no matter the kitchen.”

Peter quirks his head at what is clearly a reference to something else, but Pepper waves him off—private joke.

“Now, I’m going to take this and try not to get crumbs or puke all over my driver’s backseat. I suggest you join Tony in getting some sleep.” 

“You bet, Miss Potts.”

“Pepper, Pete,” she calls behind her, the reminder a new request from her since he returned after the battle with Thanos.

“Bye Pepper,” he tries, because he’s been interchanging Tony and Mister Stark for a while now, and Pepper deserves the same. 

It still feels weird, having this window into their everyday life like this, but he chooses not to reflect on it too much, shoveling the last of his meal into his mouth and putting the dishes into the sink, off to his room to get much more than Tony’s required six hours of sleep.

 

ii.

 

Peter loves movie nights at the compound.

First of all, as would be expected, Tony Stark's sound system compares and then outdoes every movie theater Peter's ever been in. On top of that, the windows dim upon command for the perfect, non-sunlight-glaring TV lighting, and there are plenty of options for seating in the compound’s main living area.

He won’t complain about the company, either. Most nights it's a very casual, unofficial sort of affair wherein Peter and Tony pry themselves away from working in the lab and put on a movie instead. Either to decompress or to distract themselves when their ideas are running around in unproductive circles.

Mister Stark is generally great movie company—remarking or laughing at things, but not too much. Giving proper, deserved mocking of anything overtly terrible. Plus, Mister Stark will sit through a good old comfort rewatch of any Star Wars movie Peter wants, from the original trilogy to the newest release. Keeping Peter close if he needs it, but letting him mentally escape into a galaxy far, far away for a few hours.

But there are times, in this post-Thanos world, where every seat in the house is filled by an Avenger. Clint and Natasha like to squeeze together on a love seat, comfortable in each other's space, their near-constant whispering, sometimes in other languages, always hearable for Peter’s enhanced senses. Rhodey will usually situate himself at Tony’s side, where Tony will complain that he's a popcorn hog at least twice. Bucky sits on the floor, for whatever reason, while Steve sits behind him somewhere, excusing the behavior with a 'what can you do' sort of shrug that Peter interprets as the same knowing look he sometimes gives MJ concerning Ned—knowing someone for a long time doesn't mean you can always explain their behavior, but best friend duty requires that you roll with it.

Tonight, though, is a quieter one. Rhodey is in an armchair, having fallen fast asleep to a pair of sports commentators addressing the current football draft speculations. Upon the sight of Rhodey zonked out, Peter came in and put on an action movie that he was only sort of paying attention to, having gotten caught up in the Decathlon group chat, which was currently hyped up about the next tournament and focused on creating clever and highly specific memes to insult every team captain they could remember the name of. Which then leads to Tony coming in, overriding FRIDAY to put on, specifically “something else", which is what leads them into intently watching _The Princess Bride_ over Rhodey's snores.

At first, neither of them are sure why this movie of everything in Tony's database of films was chosen by the AI, but then the elevator opens, Pepper walks through the door with a sour look on her face, and Mister Stark makes a quiet "Ah," of recognition. One of her favorites, then, Peter assumes.

"Lay it on me, baby," Tony says, expectant. He adjusts himself slightly, perfectly prepared when Pepper drops onto the couch next to him, her high-heeled feet in his lap in a matter of seconds. “TV sound down, FRI.”

After the television sound lowers, Pepper slouches further back into the arm of the couch. ”Okay, well, first of all—the heel-wearing while pregnant? Done. Any more and I'll take all of my meetings barefoot. It's not worth it, let the media talk."

"Who would say anything about what kind of shoes you wear to work?" Peter says, but accepts the two silent looks that come his way from both Starks: the press are rabid animals, what are you thinking, poor naive little Peter?

"Second," Pepper starts, interrupted by the sigh that escapes when her black heels fall to the floor with a carpet-muted thump. "I don't know what the hell R&D was thinking, hiring Todd—you know him, Tony, with the—“ She makes a gesture near her head, something about his hair, maybe? Tony nods, but Peter isn't sure if he actually knows who she means or if he’s just rolling with it. "His title implies research, right? But he comes into the R&D meeting all 'I'll look into it, Miss Potts,' every time I ask him a question! God."

"Goddamn Todd," Tony agrees, his tone sympathetic, like he really does know who this Todd is, maybe because she's come home with this issue before. During all of this, Tony has started rubbing Pepper's feet, causing her to practically melt into the cushions of the couch. Peter’s possibly never seen her so not put-together and poised in his life.

“God _damn_ Todd,” Pepper echoes. “It wasn’t even that bad a day, I’m just—ugh, hormones, maybe?” She sighs again, turning to her side and burying her feet under Tony’s thighs. Tony pats her calf sympathetically. “Sorry to make you listen to this, Peter. My filter’s blown at this point.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the kid,” Tony assures. “I’ve told him the real stories about so many things that have happened in the workshop. The hero-worshipping phase is officially over.”

“For you, maybe,” Peter says, reaching over Tony to pat Pepper’s leg where it’s covered by Tony’s hand. “I still think you’re awesome, Pepper, no worries.”

“Watch it kid, or you’re out of the will. The lawyers can be here in an hour—they actually miss back when they had to cover my ass all the time, believe it or not.”

Peter stills. “I’m—in your will?”

Tony shrugs, then says exaggeratedly “I dunno, kiddo, are you? After thinking it over, I’m just not sure!”

“Mister Stark, seriously, what—why am I—“

“Tony, leave him alone for five minutes, please,” Pepper says, kicking Tony’s leg. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Since when?”

“FRIDAY put this on specifically so that I would get to watch Westley fight Inigo by the time I was comfortable.”

“Oh, did she, now?”

“Your AI likes me better, your mentee likes me better…rough day to be Tony Stark, hon.”

“What’s yours is mine, Mrs. Stark.”

“Ugh,” Rhodey groans out of nowhere, sitting up from his reclined position to glare at the pair next to Peter. “Did you guys actually think I could sleep through one of your weird mating rituals? I’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna scar the kid for life.”

Tony and Pepper roll their eyes at the same time, shutting up but for Tony’s command to FRIDAY to turn up the volume again.

Peter goes to bed sufficiently unscarred, but he does send Tony a picture later of Peter and Rhodey contorting themselves in such a way to give both Pepper and Tony bunny ears behind where they fell asleep together on the couch before the movie reached the Pit of Despair scene.

 

iii.

 

Peter’s not used to Tony sleeping in when he visits the compound.

As in, if it’s happened previously, Peter assumes that he also slept in so much that he was unaware when exactly Tony woke up and just assumed it was ten times earlier. Not that Peter wants Mister Stark to go without sleep—it’s the opposite, in fact. 

He thinks Tony looks way older than he is when he’s sleep deprived. Not in an insulting way, but in that he looks more manic than happy: always tired despite chugging a mix of caffeine and his disgusting green protein shakes all day. The parts of his body that are injured always become more sore, easier to aggravate. And if he’s not with Peter or by himself in the lab, Pepper reports that Tony comes to company meetings like he’s supposed to and unsuccessfully tries to sit still and pay attention, which therefore makes it impossible for _her_ to pay attention because she’s worried that he’s going to pass out on the table or open his mouth and say the wrong thing to keep himself occupied.

Because of this, for the first hour that Peter is up before Mister Stark for once, he takes it as a reason to have a leisurely morning. He eats two-thirds of a box of blueberry Pop-Tarts, drinks two glasses of milk, and uses his free time to scroll through his Instagram and reply to Ned’s texts from the night before.

By the second hour, Peter notes that his mentor being asleep so long is an oddity, but shrugs and decides to watch the news for anything on his recent bust on 111th—Spider-Man caught the robbers blue-handed. Dye packs, people, remember they exist! When that fails, he scopes out Twitter’s local results and finds a story from the Daily Bugle that is less than favorable towards him, so he gives up on that endeavor too.

By hour three, he’s itching to get into the lab. He keeps telling Mister Stark that he’s mature enough to be in there by himself and that FRIDAY and all of the bots will keep an eye on him, but so far his argument has been unconvincing to Tony.

“ _I’m always there anyway_ ,” Tony always says, except for when he and Pepper go out to a benefit, or when Tony is out on the rare mission, or like _right now_.

Peter’s decided that he’s ramped himself up enough to give Mister Stark a piece of his mind (ie: to bother him until he either wakes up or just lets Peter go into the lab by himself like the young adult—not child—that he is.) He strides across the main area of the compound to get to Mister Stark’s area, where he’s allowed, because his room is there too. (Which isn’t _because_ of his nightmares, but convenient when either he or Tony wake up wondering where the other is. Only a few measly feet apart feels like a universe on those nights.)

He doesn’t knock, because he decides Tony doesn’t get a warning, and FRIDAY would (probably) warn him if Mister Stark was like, naked, or whatever. (Not to mention that a lot of people all over the world have seen Mister Stark naked because of the internet, and sometimes certain people ambush you with those certain pictures of your mentor to ruin your day, _thank you,_ _MJ_.)

Peter’s through the door and about two steps from jumping to dive-bomb the bed, just for kicks, when he has to abruptly stop, his socked feet not sticking like his bare ones would, causing him to slide ungracefully to the floor on his ass.

“Peter?” comes Pepper’s voice, quiet and very distinctly not Tony’s. Peter cranes his neck up to find Pepper sitting up in the bed she and Tony share, a tablet in front of her with multiple hovering windows open.

“I—I’m so sorry Miss Potts—Pepper, I was looking for Mister Stark, and…” he really doesn’t want to tell Pepper he was planning to purposefully give her husband a minor heart attack for jollies, so he shrugs because he’s a klutz with superpowers that only fractionally help, so him ending up on the floor is definitely a possibility on any given day.

She skips the numerous questions she could ask and instead says “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, powers, fine. It’s—I’m good.”

She eyes him up and down. So maybe he’s lied about the severity of injuries to everyone in his life a handful of times, fine, let her check. Any rug-burn will be gone before he’s able to feel it. Peter picks himself up in silence, brushing off the non-existent dust from his clothes. He gives her what he thinks is a winning smile, but something in her look says Tony’s given her similar looks half-dead before and she’s not impressed.

“Did you need something, Peter? Tony’s—“ Pepper points down, where Peter finally notices the lump that is Tony attached to Pepper’s body. Tony is sort of like a koala, which—Peter knew he was touch-y despite pretending to be all cool and aloof, but he’s never seen Tony like this. His head is mostly on Pepper stomach—is that safe for the baby?—and he’s otherwise using the lower part of Pepper’s chest as his pillow. One arm is curled around Pepper’s legs, a few fingers poking out of the covers, but the rest of his limbs are curled up under the blanket pile.

Honestly, the funniest part of it is that they sleep in a king-sized bed and have zero space between the two of them. Peter’s bed is also a king, and he could surely fit all two of his friends in there with room to spare. (Peter notes in his head to have Ned over for a sleepover some time, because Ned would probably die of excitement, and it would be awesome.)

Before the thought finishes in his brain to take a picture of the scene, Pepper hums a strict “Don’t,” with an accompanying look of disappointment. (That’s fair. The one place superheroes should be left alone is in their own beds. He was mostly going to joke about doing it.)

“Is he…okay? It’s almost eleven.” The implication there that, again, Tony sleeping in or sleeping multiple hours at all is tough to conceptualize, even though eight hours is normal for most.

“He’s really good, actually,” Pepper bites her lip like she’s holding in a noise of delight at the sight of him sleeping against her, then pulls her fingers through Tony’s hair. Like Tony sometimes does to Peter. Tony stirs only to adjust himself deeper into Pepper’s hold, oblivious or purposefully ignoring that they’re speaking. “A good sleep every few weeks gets him through the bad ones and the nightmares. And, best part—“

Pepper motions Peter to come closer, and he moves his socked feet across the floor without making a sound or attracting any static. At first he sees nothing but a different angle of the same scene, but then he leans down a little more, seeing more of Pepper’s now months-prominent bump.

Tony’s head moves. More aptly, Pepper’s stomach has movement, bumping Tony’s head along with it.

Peter has to restrain himself from screaming, so, _so_ hard. “The baby’s kicking?!”

Pepper’s smile is so wide and good—Peter wants to bottle it up like Tony’s and keep it for a bad day. The days of late have been so good, he’s worried to need it.

“She’s already pushing him around. We’re in so much trouble.”

There’s a second of silence—all it takes for Peter’s brain to digest the words Pepper’s just said, and for Pepper to catch on quickly with wide eyes, slapping her palm against his mouth. “It’s a girl?!” comes the muffled yell against her hand.

“Peter!” she whisper-yells back. “We were waiting to tell people—Tony was so excited to tell you, and now I ruined it. God.”

“I won’t tell, I swear,” Peter nods like ten times, as if that helps. “I promise, not a word, I’ll act really surprised, I’ll practice.”

_You’ll practice?_ She mouths, stressed, because he’s a terrible liar to the people he loves, and it’s not good at all that he has to practice towards the person that will immediately suss him out.

“I’ll practice really hard, he’ll never know,” Peter assures.

 

(Tony very much does know, because his wife and mentee-pseudo-son are not actually being that quiet less than a foot away from his face, but he only says as much the second Peter walks into the small party they’re having to show off the ultrasound photos, to spare him even a second of terrible acting.)

 

iv.

 

Peter is aware of his surroundings in phases.

At first it’s all too much. There are lights so bright everything is blown out, the sounds—wheels rolling, strange voices, beeps going so fast they must not be skipping a millisecond—make him try to cover his ears. The second he does he notices the pain in his chest as he tries to curl in on himself. He feels like he got kicked by a horse, his breath isn’t coming, and _why can’t he breathe_? And then he’s being pulled at, poked and prodded, voices garble to _stay still_ and _hold him down_ and it’s just _too damn much_.

He pulls against the forces grappling at him, garnering the response of a few curses. At least he can suffer in relative peace, though every sensation down to whatever he’s lying on is making him want to barf.

“Peter—Pete, kid, you have to breathe,” a new voice says, one he recognizes. Tony. And not normal, relaxed, shooting-the-shit Tony, but panicked-and-on-the-edge-of-a-breakdown Tony. Tony has always tried to play the cool and calm one when they’re together, but Peter knows better—they get along so well because of how similarly they’re constantly trying to find their own footing as the ground is crumbling beneath them.

“Hurts,” he replies, grinding his teeth. It feels like he’s drowning on land, trying to intake air like he’s been doing without effort since the day he was born.

“I know, I know, but Peter,” Tony says, closer this time, and Peter knows it’s his hands that are on Peter’s shoulders, forcing him flat but not asking him to open his eyes or uncover his ears. “The doctors can’t do anything if you don’t let them.”

He hadn’t thought of that—he was in pain, so someone took him to a hospital, and he could really hurt someone if he didn’t check his strength. Maybe he already had, accidentally. He tries to destress, but his usual technique of controlled breathing doesn’t work when he can’t breathe right, which only panics him more. “I can’t—I can’t breathe, what if they can’t—“

“No. That’s not an option, okay? I’m right here. I’ll help you breathe.” Peter wonders if Tony is going to start trying their usual breathe-with-me exercise, but instead he pulls on Peter’s curls, tucking them back and fitting plastic over his mouth. It still hurts to breathe, but the influx of oxygen—from the oxygen mask, his brain supplies—seems to lessen the need to pull so hard from the air.

“Easy,” Tony warns. “See, you’re gonna be okay. I’ve got some nice drugs—best ones a man can make for his messed up spider-child. They’ll ease you right to sleep and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Wha—ow,” he says, feeling the familiar pinch of a needle in his arm. “What’ll be over?”

“No worries. Doctor Cho has this whole fixing broken superheroes thing on lock. You’ll be back to eating everyone out of house and home in no time.”

He means to ask Tony to promise, or to respond to Tony’s wise-crack with something about how Tony is a bajillionaire, so what does he care about his food bill, but instead he relishes in the undercurrent of drugs moving through his veins and lets out a resigned “M’kay, T’ny.”

As he surrenders to sleep—sweet, sweet sleep where nothing hurts—he hears Pepper’s voice like an echo down a long hallway, an “Oh, honey,” on her lips. Peter’s not sure if it’s directed at himself or Tony.

 

Peter wakes again, but his eyes are too heavy to open. In fact, all of his limbs are pretty firmly agreed upon staying strapped to what he assumes is a hospital bed as if they were clamped by vibranium. And Peter’s so tired, anyway, so he gives in. He waits for sleep to come back.

“Pep, you know that I can’t just—“

“No, no, I know. Just. Stave it off, for a minute. Just like with Peter. Breathe.”

Tony breathes, but it’s a shaky thing.

“Good. Now look.” Peter imagines more than actually sees Pepper forcing Tony’s gaze to her own. “Tony, we’ve been through so much, all of us. But I won’t let that ruin good things for you. We’re going to worry about this baby no matter what, but it’s not you. It’s not me. It’s not Peter, galavanting across New York in a spider costume. We’re going to love her so much, and I just don’t think—it’s not good to spiral about Peter and put that on her.”

“Pepper Potts is right, the world must still be turning.”

“Exactly,” Pepper gives herself a beat. “Peter’s alive. Tony, _you_ are still alive. We’re going to have this baby, this family, and we’re not going to lose it anymore. I have to believe that, and I want you to believe it to.”

“Pepper, we can’t _know_ —“

“I know. I’m asking for faith, Tony. In us. In me. That for this moment, and the next, and the one after that, everything is going to be okay, and when it’s not, we’ll…make it better. You’ll do your Tony Stark thing and create a solution until it’s better. You’ll, you know, kiss her scraped knees or make her a suit to keep her safe, or—“

“Oh, god, don’t even make me think about her out there, Peter’s enough. Seriously, I’m getting angina over here.”

“ _Tony_ ,“ comes Pepper’s familiar admonishment, the rest of their conversation lost in the back of his mind as he drifts back to sleep.

 

The next time he wakes, his eyes actually do open, but they take a minute to adjust. The lights are thankfully low, like the ones in his room when he prefers sleeping without the lights completely off.

He spots Aunt May, asleep, her hand in his own while the rest of her is slumped over onto his bed. He gives a quick squeeze to her hand, but she doesn’t wake.

Behind her, in a corner they’ve seemingly made their own, are Tony and Pepper.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have the baby at the compound?” Tony inquires, stylus between his teeth. He’s either working on schematics or playing Candy Crush on his tablet, and Peter is the only one besides Pepper that will ever be brave enough to ask which. “Less travel time, no need to pack an overnight bag since everything is upstairs…”

Pepper has propped herself in one chair, using another as a foot stool. Her head is leaned on the top of Tony’s where he’s settled himself against her.

“No, Tony. I don’t want—I want our doctor, and the private room, and the experience of all of the hospital staff possibly hearing me curse your name during labor.”

“I’m going to bust out the gauntlets for you to hold onto.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll be the envy of every new parent in the wing.”

“Except for the mother of your child, who will strangle you and give birth at the same time.”

“Do what you feel is necessary, I’m just protecting myself.”

“The great Tony Stark, cowering from his _wife’s hand_ —“

“D’you guys have to be so loud all the time?” Peter finds himself asking. It’s mostly as a tease—they’re more entertaining than anything FRIDAY could pull up as background noise—but he is also, apparently, more sensitive to stimuli than normal.

“Your aunt’s sleeping through it just fine,” Tony says, sitting up. Pepper takes a little more time and care with the action due to being a few months from giving birth, but ignores Tony’s offered hand to help. “And I’ll have you know it’s my obligation to bicker with Pep till the day we die. It was in my vows.”

“I know, Mister Stark. I was there.” Peter tries to lean up and jostle his aunt, but his chest is still sore and he ends up falling back into his pillows with a breathless “Oof.”

“Take it easy, kiddo. That’s what a punctured lung will do to you. Which—we’re going to talk about getting you some agility lessons with Romanoff, because I saw the footage from Karen. That scale-y mother-effer hit you square in the ribs.”

Peter remembers, now, said scale-y mother-effer. He’s not sure exactly who or what the creature was, but its strength was no joke. That punch apparently broke a rib and knocked him out cold against the brick wall he remembers coming at him way too fast until Karen presumably called for help.

“But I’m okay?”

“Other than scaring the crap out of everyone present. Speaking of,” Tony walks over to Aunt May’s sleeping form and shakes her shoulder, expertly dodging when the woman jolts up straight and almost hits him in the face. Tony puts up his hands in defense. “Peter’s awake.”

“Oh, sorry,” his aunt blearily apologizes. It looks like she probably hasn’t slept much since he was admitted into the compound’s medical care. She leans down to give Peter a hug, bundling his sore chest and body into her own. “You’re an idiot, sweetheart. Don’t you dare face that… _thing_ again without back-up. And body armor. And until you’re back to one-hundred percent health.”

“Sorry, May.” He means more for worrying her than anything else. She’s gotten better about this whole superheroing thing since he first started, but the big injuries always make her more protective all over again. Hence why he doesn’t promise to follow her rules. If the lizard-guy comes back, Peter’s probably going to fight him again. He’ll just have to be more careful.

She probably knows that, because she lets go of him with a stern sort of look. Then she adjusts his sheets and fluffs his pillow, mothering as ever, so he figures they’re okay.

“You have to be more careful at least until Baby Stark is born,” Pepper says, placing his hand on her stomach. “She hears your voice and starts kicking away.”

Peter lets out a breathy “Aw,” at that, feeling the tiny kicks of the baby against his hand. Tony and Pepper look at him, pleased. Aunt May looks like she might cry a little, from the moment and a little bit from sleep deprivation.

“Pepper Potts, expert guilt-tripper since, well, forever.”

“Shhh, Mister Stark, you’re ruining the moment.”

 

v.

 

Aunt May won’t let him go to the hospital the second Tony calls. She tells Tony this the moment Peter half kicks her door open at three in the morning, screaming “The baby is coming, Aunt May, we have to go!”

Instead, she simply holds her hand out for Peter’s cell phone, where Tony is currently complaining about hearing loss.

“It’s May,” she answers, burying herself back under her sheets with his phone against her head. “Uh-huh. No, I understand, Tony. I’m a nurse, for Christ’s sake.” Peter can hear Tony on the other end of the line, but he ignores actually paying attention to what he’s saying over depositing himself next to May in her bed, cuddling close like he used to as a kid. “I’m fine with him missing school tomorrow for it, but he doesn’t need to sit in a waiting room all night. Just—call when she’s close, and we’ll be there. Give Pepper our love.”

Then Aunt May surreptitiously hangs up on Tony Stark, billionaire genius that many find hard to get on the other end of a phone in the first place.

“I know you were listening, Peter. Sleep. We won’t miss anything for a few hours.”

He doesn’t actually feel like getting up and trudging over the hospital over staying in their nice, warm apartment when he’s still half-asleep, but he knows that he would—for Tony, for Pepper, for their baby. He doesn’t put up much of an argument, just looks at his aunt across the pillows, as best he can in the dark. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, honey. Women can spend hours in labor. That’s for Tony to experience tonight, not you. Now go to sleep.”

“M’kay. Night May. Love you.”

“I love you too, Peter.”

 

He and Aunt May make it through their entire normal morning routines without a call from Tony. Peter starts getting worried. 

Aunt May still keeps him out of school, and she takes him with her to the hospital. Thankfully, Pepper picked the very hospital wherein May takes her shifts, so she escorts him to the family waiting room, gives him a quick peck on the cheek, and makes him promise to text with any updates.

In the waiting room already are Rhodey, Happy, and a woman whose hair makes Peter assume that she’s Pepper’s mother.

“Hey, Pete,” Rhodey greets. Happy gives a half-hearted wave, his full attention seemingly on the crossword in his lap. “Glad you could make it.”

“I wanted to come earlier, but Aunt May wouldn’t let me.”

“I heard,” Rhodey says in a way that implies that Tony was either in the room with them when he made that call, or he heard all about it in one of Tony’s rants. “She was right to have you hold off—it’s a lot of waiting for news.”

“I was, um. Kind of hoping that Mister Stark would have called by now. He promised that he would.”

“Don’t think the worst. It’s just been slow. I’m sure Pepper’s more exhausted than us by how long it’s taking.” Rhodey motions to the seat next to him, right between himself and Happy. “Since it might be a while, let me introduce you to Misses Potts…Sr.”

 

Two long, foot-tapping, nail-biting, _Parker, if you don’t quit moving around I’m gonna break out the enhanced cuffs_ hours later, Mister Stark walks into the room. Peter stands like he’s at military attention, only for Happy to drag him back into his seat by the arm.

“No, Hap, it’s fine, come here, Peter.” Tony gives him a firm hug, accompanied by a few soft pats on the back, a softer version of the well-known bro-hug. “It’s good to see you. Your aunt told me you were already here when I called earlier.”

“How’s Pepper?” Rhodey asks.

“Tired as hell, but acting tough as usual. The hard part’s over, though.”

“Do you mean—?”

Tony nods, a smile twitching onto his face like he can’t believe it’s real for a second before it becomes more full-blown. “She’s here. Healthy, screaming her little lungs out, last I saw. They say she’s seven and a half pounds, but I swear, I’ve held bigger wrenches. She’s so small and—god, I love her so much already. I feel like such a sap with all of the crying.” At that Tony wipes a tear, trying to play it off as casual and failing when another falls.

“Oh my god, Mister Stark—Tony, she’s here!” Peter yells, throwing himself into Tony’s arms for a more full hug. Rhodey accompanies him, shaking Tony by the shoulders before throwing his own arms over Tony’s shoulders.

“You joining in on this or what, Hap?” Tony asks, gesturing to where Happy is standing behind the three of them all clustered together, Misses Potts Sr. at his side.

“Oh, absolutely not. You’re getting one hug and I’m not sharing it with either of them.” Tony rolls his eyes, but obliges, shaking Peter and Rhodey off to embrace Happy. “I’m proud of you guys, Tony, seriously,” Happy amends.

“Thanks, Hap.” Tony steps back, then gives himself a couple of awkward coughs as if it will shake off how emotional this day is for everyone involved. “I’ve been told by my wife that you have grandmother’s dibs?” he says, addressing Pepper’s mother.

 

Peter is the last to come and visit the baby in the private room. After grandmother’s privileges came Uncle Rhodey’s, then Uncle Happy’s. Peter decides his timing is actually perfect, as he’ll likely be the last to see the baby and Pepper before Pepper concedes to get some rest and before the other Avengers start to trickle in to give their congratulations.

He approaches the room tentatively, counting the numbers of the other rooms as he passes them by, the other couples in the maternity ward likely unaware that Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are their neighboring new parents. He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

When the window of their door comes into view, he stops himself at the sight. Tony is on the medical bed, one leg next to Pepper’s, the other hanging off to the side. His arm is around his wife’s shoulders, the both of them staring down at the bundle in Pepper’s arms.

It never hit him before, not really. Pepper and Tony being actual parents. 

It’s just—Peter is bereft of parental figures, these days. He didn’t get his own parents for long enough to remember. Aunt May and Uncle Ben have always been there, but then he lost Ben too. It feels like so long now that it’s just been May—his mom in every way that he could ever ask for. But the pain of losing Ben is still like a dark pool at the bottom of his stomach, a black hole waiting to eat him up inside if he stews on it for too long. Like remembering and yet not remembering what it was like to have not existed, after Titan.

Tony and Pepper have been so good to him, good _for_ him. It’s more people in his life to rely on, more family. The Starks and the other Avengers. And now there’s Baby Stark, right there on the other side of the glass, unaware that she’s got such important, caring, strong people that are going to love her no matter what, protect her however they can. He’s—he doesn’t know exactly what to call what he’s feeling, just that it takes him a moment—long enough that Tony spots him at the door and motions him in—to try and clear it from his face.

“Hi,” Peter says, lamely, his body walking forward without him realizing. Pepper smiles at him anyway. She looks moderately less haggard than he somehow imagined, but he can tell she’s definitely more ready to drift off than she’ll probably admit.

Tony throws an arm around Peter’s shoulders, guiding him to the chair next to the bed and pushing him down by the shoulder. He wants to see the baby. He’s terrified he’s going to break her just by looking too long. He doesn’t even know her name yet.

“Hey baby,” Tony says to the bundle, taking her from Pepper with a confidence Peter didn’t expect. He imagines Tony the moment she was born, holding her and being just as scared as Peter. He’s not sure how his mentor did it. “You ready to meet Peter?” When Peter doesn’t move a muscle, Tony directs his attention towards him. “C’mon kid, I promise it’s not that hard. Support her head, don’t drop her on the tile, nothing for a kid genius like you.”

Peter nods and tries to hold out his arms, but it feels awkward and he retracts them some. Tony shakes his head, entertained by Peter, apparently, and instead guides the baby into his arms, her tiny form against his chest as another form of support besides his arms.

The baby wriggles a little listlessly. Not sleeping, not crying, but not exactly sure what’s going on now that she’s not with one of her parents.

“Talking to her might help,” Pepper suggests. She and Tony are watching with rapt attention, their hands linked. “She loved your voice, remember?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Hey, um—“ He realizes he doesn’t even know her name.

“Morgan,” Tony says, clearly proud when he next clarifies her full name. “Morgan Virginia Stark.”

“Morgan,” Peter whispers, suddenly entranced by the reality of Baby Stark. Not a concept, not inside Pepper, but here in his arms, bearing a name of her own and everything.

“I won the coin toss for the middle name,” Tony brags.

“I cannot believe, of all the choices—“ Pepper, the original Virginia, Peter realizes, isn’t as pleased.

“I tried for Potts-Stark, but you wouldn’t budge, honey. She’s only half me. We need to memorialize the Pepper half too.”

“Yes, but Tony, _Virginia_.”

“Oh, I’ve heard your sad high school stories, fellow honor student. That’s why it’s her middle name. Simply a homage.”

“Simply a— _Tony_ ,”

“It’s a compliment, just—“ Tony cuts himself off, following Pepper’s gaze to Peter. “Peter? What’s wrong?”

It’s then that Peter realizes he’s crying. Between the excitement of the baby, and thinking about his own family, and everything, he’s just looking at Morgan Stark and crying like a little kid.

“I’m so _happy_ for her, Mister Stark. I was thinking about my family, earlier, and I just—she’s got you guys as her parents, and Rhodey and Happy and the Avengers and she’s gonna be so _loved_ , Tony. She’s already got so much family. I want her to have the whole world and I’ve known her for like five minutes!” He’s crying on Morgan, which is making her fuss, so he lets Tony take her from his hands while he wipes his tears.

“I know, right?” Tony agrees. “She definitely has my genes—makes everyone fall for her in seconds. But you know…” Tony passes Morgan to Pepper, crouching down to Peter’s level despite the pop of his knees at the movement. “You forgot someone.”

Peter sniffs. “Huh?”

“She has you too, Peter. You’re her family, just like you and your aunt are our family. Our little Spider-kid.”

“Mister Stark,” he half whines, petulant about the moniker of being called a child, but touched by it too.

“More officially,” Pepper adds. “You’re her…god-brother, I guess.”

Tony waves the term away. “Something like that. Spider-brother? Semi-Adopted-Intern-Person-brother? What has a good ring to it?”

“You mean it?” Peter asks, hesitant. “I’m like, if she had a real brother? You think I could?”

Pepper looks at him the way she sometimes looks at Tony—not with pity, but with an overabundance of want to make his life happier and better. “Of course, Peter. Like Tony said—you’re family to us. Even when Tony retires, or if you stop being Spider-Man, or if you go somewhere else than Stark Industries one day. You’re an honorary Stark at this point.”

He feels like more of a baby than Morgan for it, but he keeps on crying. This time he jumps at Tony, now standing again, for another hug, so tight he has to control himself not to hurt his mentor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—“

“Seriously?” Tony sighs as if he’s exasperated, but hugs Peter back until he unlatches himself long enough to wrap his arms around Pepper and Morgan too.

“I’ll be the best big brother ever, I’ll babysit all the time and teach her the entire periodic table and I’ll take so many videos and send you all of them, I swear—“

“We love you too, Peter,” Pepper replies, accepting the sentiment behind his excited, tearful rambling and kissing his head where it’s buried against her.

“I have to go tell Aunt May, holy shi—butts. Holy butts. Sorry, Morgan.” He runs to the door, remembering to turn and say “She said congrats, by the way. And to tell Pepper to get some rest before any more visitors come by.” 

Before Tony or Pepper can reply, Peter’s half out the door, shouting “I’m a brother!” once before a nurse’s dirty look reminds him that he’s in a maternity ward, near sensitive babies like Morgan, so he turns his voice down to a whisper only he can hear, smiling to himself as he says it again.

“I’m a brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- I wrote a jokey little post about it on tumblr during my IM2 rewatch, but I think Tony and Pepper are truly at their peak cuteness when they’re bickering and slowly getting closer to each other, so I kept writing them bickering. Their verbal tennis is foreplay, folks.  
> \- No real-life Todds were insulted in the writing of this fic. Sorry if that’s your name. It just…happened.  
> \- There's an unwritten ficlet where Peter absolutely does dive-bomb Tony in bed dead asleep and almost gives him a heart attack, but not really. Peter shows the video of it to Ned on a loop, and Tony questions why he loves the kid so much.  
> \- It turns out there’s not really a non-religious term for the idea of a god-brother/parent/etc., so I had Tony brush it off, but you get the idea. He’s her brother in all of the important ways.  
> \- Upon rewatching, I realized Tony makes a short comment about Pepper's mom in The Avengers, so I decided she'd probably be around and in the know for the birth of their child. She doesn't get any lines, but it felt weird to not include her knowing she supposedly still exists.  
> \- As always, comments, kudos, and bookmarks are appreciated. You can also come talk IronDad/Mom, Marvel, etc. [with me on Tumblr.](http://www.imgoingtocrash.tumblr.com)


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